Why does my house smell like a dead body? (Guest post #1)
I awoke to the stench of rotten.
In the hurly-burly of getting li’l blogo off to the airport early on Monday, then working a late shift Monday night (thus going straight to bed upon getting home), some innocently forgotten food items were left on the kitchen counter Sunday night. They were left there with good intentions of a kitchen clean-up, good intentions that got lost paving the road to Hell. This-morning (Tuesday), the food returned from Hell, sadder, and certainly not wiser. More like, vengeful.
I should add that they had previously overstayed their welcome in the fridge by about a week. . .
Offender #1 was a quinoa and cashew sauce dish with cubed tofu. Healthy healthy healthy! Offender #2 was a garden variety salad.
The smell was astonishingly remniscient of an experience from summer camp at age 15. At the end of the summer, I was helping clean up a kitchen. Of course, this included taking out all the old garbage bags. One of them unfortunately contained 30 pounds of forgotten, raw, t-bone steaks, dripping in their bloody juices, awash in maggots. But that’s not what I noticed first. I had innocently been attempting to tie off the top of the bag when a very unfortunate out-gassing occurred. The stench-wave induced immediate nausea, and I had to run outside to avoid immediately vomiting.
The best part happened next.
Did I mention that this was a summer cadet camp? For those who don’t know, the cadets are a paramilitary organization for teenagers, and yes, it’s very much a natural experiment in Lord of The Flies, except with shiny boots and starched collars. So, I was naturally Ordered by my 17 year old Platoon Sergeant, drunk on his petty power, to go back in there and Get That Garbage! I did, but not before getting rotten blood on my arms, starchy shirt, and shiny boots.
Summer camp is wholesome, and it gives memories for a lifetime, memories which roused me from my slumbers this morning. In our time of living, we are vibrant, colourful, and varied. In our decay, we are one. Blogo has been gone for 23.5 hours, and I have already reverted to complete savagery. At least there’s no rotten blood. And no petty teen dictators.
Posted in Domesticity, Health & Wellness, Married Life |
September 26th, 2008 at 2:09 pm
The “out-gassing” really made me laugh. I could picture the gas puffing up at your face, lifting your hair.